Turbulent Waves
by believeintrust
Summary: Formally Known as 'The Swap'. Taito. Hopefully to update soon but right now I need help to continue.
1. 1 Mistake

Disclaimer: Don't own digimon

* * *

**The Swap**

Chapter One: _Mistake_

Taichi slammed the bedroom door shut with his foot finding his hands far too occupied with his shirt to use them. Lips crushed to his hungrily, two slender hands seeking the exposing flesh of Taichi's hardened abs. His back was to the wall as the slighter man attempted to keep contact with his lips while Taichi tried to lift his shirt over his head.

He pushed the blonde man from him, the other stumbled back a few steps while Taichi's shirt was discarded across the room. The other's balance was only barely recovered before he felt Taichi's strong arms around him again, one circling his waist, and the other pulling his head towards the brunet's to keep their lips interlocked.

Taichi backed Yamato up, towards the bed and let the other fall. Surprise was written upon the blonde man's face, blue eyes widened, full lips parted in a silent gasp, hair swirling around his pale face before he landed with his back upon the mattress.

The innocent surprise that appeared upon Yamato's face was gone the moment his back met the comforter of the bed and the smile he gave Taichi was deliciously evil.

Taichi was out of control, he had to have the blonde man now! Taichi bowed towards the other, lips catching Yamato's, his hands holding firm to the other's hips and together they enjoyed the evening, enjoyed the taste of each other, the feel of each other…

In the heat of that moment, in the heat of the passion that coursed through their bodies they forgot the reason they were performing the act; Yamato forgot his loneliness, Taichi forgot that this was forbidden; and in the heat of that moment all they knew was how they felt, how right it felt, how happy they felt, how whole they felt…

They'd remember all the next morning…

* * *

The day held thick clouds in the sky, dark grey promising rain. Fall had long come and taken the leaves from the trees and the wind that blew through the city promised an early winter. Yamato walked along the downtown sidewalk, tugging his brown jacket further around his body, wishing to trap some warmth within its confines.

He was walking to the college he attended, letting his feet guide him along the streets he knew too well while his thoughts ruled his mind; his memories blinding his eyes.

He left Taichi's house as soon as he could that morning, he was the second to awake.

"_This was a mistake…" _

The brunet's words, not his.

He hated thinking them, wished them gone but they replayed again in his mind. His stomach felt sick.

"_I'm so, so sorry… This was a mistake. I… Oh my God… "_

Taichi seemed rather frightened when he awoke. Yamato woke to the brunette jumping out of bed, obviously not expecting to wake up next to him. Yamato had never seen anyone dress so fast.

He had wished it wouldn't turn out that way. It wasn't an actual wish or a wish he had made upon meeting the brunet at that bar, just a knowledge of the sickening regret he'd feel if the brunet hadn't woken to state the knowledge that he still liked the blonde now that he was sober.

Now he had that regret, the feeling of being rejected wanted to overwhelm him but didn't. He took it in stride, after all he had known at the time how the brunet would react the following morning. He had simply committed the deed for his own selfish reasons. Flirting with the drunken brunet had made him feel good, being flirted back to made him feel great and having that closeness, having someone hold him safe in a large warm bed chased away that loneliness that he seemed to always feel now days.

"Hey!" His arm was cupped, a strong hand grasping him, startling him, and jerked him backwards. He tripped upon the curb and started falling but was roughly pulled up by whom ever had grabbed him. The blare of a horn sounded before him and he came to realize that he had just stepped into on-coming traffic.

Yamato turned surprised eyes to see who had saved him. Green eyes were staring over his head at the passing truck, the man was tall, probably not much older then Yamato. His hair was brown, the same shade as Taichi's Yamato noted, but his skin was much lighter.

The man's gaze turned to meet Yamato's then and a smile painted his pale lips. "Hey, you alright? You seemed kind of distracted."

Yamato took a step back from the other man, making the silent request for the other to let him go. "Yes, I suppose I was. Thank you." Yamato said and forced a strained smile.

The green eyed man then squinted at him, studying Yamato's face from his eyebrows to his chin. "Do I know you?"

_Oh, I hope not. _Yamato thought and shook his head 'no' for the man. "I don't think so."

"You sure; I swear you look familiar." Yamato shrugged and smiled; he wasn't in the mood to do much more. "Well, then I'd like to get to know you, my name is Garik." Garik held out his hand to Yamato who took it gingerly.

A small blush tinted Yamato's cheeks and he lowered his head a bit to try and hide it, "Yamato."

Garik grinned. "Would you like to get a cup of coffee or something?"

"I'm sorry…" he started but was interrupted.

"I did just save your life, the least you could offer me is your company." It was stated without contempt, his voice rising in all the right spots to make it seem almost like a jest but its intent was to play on Yamato's conscious, which it did.

Yamato bit his lip. "Well, I've got to go to class today but…" and he turned his head to look away before he continued, "I suppose I do have time for a coffee…"

Genuinely life is complicated. Little insignificant events, small decisions or even decisions that one wouldn't even know they were making could set forward a series of events that could ultimately lead them to experience the most joyous or horrid events of ones life, even years later.

Yamato's conscious had gotten the better of him that day, felt obligated to invite this individual into his life, even only temporarily. If he hadn't said yes to the invitation for a cup of coffee at that time than Garik would not have recognized him, Garik would have only remembered Yamato for the golden crown of hair that shined like sun in all weather, but he had taken Garik up on that offer, he had made himself become in-printed upon Garik's mind and it would lead Yamato through a series of events that would change Yamato's life for the better… while turning another's life upside down.

* * *

Hot steam filled the small bathroom, fogging the mirror, clouding the air. Tai's eyes were shut, his breath was held; he faced upwards to the heated water that fell from the shower, warming his shaking body. He wasn't cold, though he felt a chill; a chill that traveled up his spine and lifted the hair on the back of his neck like the chill elicited by fear only could.

He was so confused.

He was frightened because he felt good. He loved what he did the night before, loved feeling that slender body beneath his, loved holding the blonde's hips; he wanted to do it again! He couldn't do it again.

He wasn't like _that. _He wasn't… different. He was like every other guy that wasn't like _that._ He was sociable, funny, loved sports and cars and… and girls?

He pulled his face from the shower and took a deep breath. Opening his eyes as water cascaded down his face.

_And girls._

He thought it again, to confirm it in his mind.

_And girls!_

No one knew what he did, no one would know. It was like it never happened. But, the blonde knew. The blonde who went to the same school he did. The blonde never talked to anyone.

He'd talk to him, tell him to tell no one. Yamato hadn't seemed terribly upset that morning, just silently left with only a few words of an apology.

It made him feel guilty. He shouldn't feel guilty…

A one night stand. A drunken mistake. Nothing more.

Feeling slightly more at ease Taichi turned the water off and stood for a moment, naked in the shower with his eyes fixed forward on the tiled wall.

_A drunken mistake. It meant nothing. _

He wondered the time as he pulled back the shower curtain and stepped from the tub, grabbing his large blue towel and wrapping it around his waist.

Having decided that he'd speak to the blonde once at school, he began to get ready to leave.

* * *

"Read chapters five and six tonight and remember that your assignments are due tomorrow." The instructor of Yamato's class mumbled as he collected his own books and papers and left before his students.

Yamato sighed and leaned back in his chair; sweeping a hand through his hair Yamato checked the clock on the wall. Class was out early again, this time a half hour early. It meant he could make it to work early, which meant more money which is what he needed right then anyways.

The other students bustled as they stood from their seats, talking and collecting their things. Some moved past Yamato, down the stairs to the door, other's passed behind him to leave and he just sat their waiting for the room to empty before he stood, pulling his note pad from the desk, standing, and traveling down the carpeted stairs towards the door as well.

He pushed the door open, its weight putting some strain on his arm, and nearly walked into someone. He stepped back, still holding the door with his right hand, and went to mutter an apology only to realize that the individual was Taichi.

His eyes widened, mouth opened with shock, and said words he hadn't time to think over first. "What are you doing here?"

Taichi didn't seem all that surprised to see him though and shuffled uncomfortably, a hardly noticeable blush forming upon his cheeks the moment he saw the blonde. Yamato, seeing Taichi's ill ease, stepped back and into the classroom signaling for the other man to follow.

Once inside the empty room Yamato asked, "You go to this school?"

Taichi raised his eyes to Yamato's blue ones, confusion upon his face and nodded, "Yeah. You didn't know?"

Yamato smiled, humored, and let out a small laugh while shaking his head. "I'm not always that observant."

The fading blush upon Taichi's cheeks only flared now, more embarrassed as though feeling his secret was out. It wasn't that he had been watching Yamato since the first time the blond had crossed his path the year earlier during orientation. No. He just happened to notice him.

Yamato happened to be stunningly beautiful; he'd notice Yamato as though he would notice 'Le Parc Monceau' by Monet. Though he wasn't large on art he'd recognize something beautiful, none the less.

He wasn't gay.

"I'm not gay!"

When Yamato looked up all humor was erased from his being; he seemed surprised. It was then that Taichi realized how loud that had sounded and that coyness that had shed from him upon receiving the desire to state the above returned fiercely, along side paranoia.

He shifted and glanced around them before shoving his hands into his pockets and diverting his eyes from the other. "I'm not gay…" He paused, took a breath and risked a glance back up at the blonde, who seemed confused again. "It… It was a mistake. I was… I was drunk, and I made a mistake, and I'm sorry you were involved but a mistake was all it was. I'm not gay."

He waited a moment, silently watching the quiet blonde. When Yamato felt as though Taichi were finished speaking Yamato said, "Okay. Though, you already said all that this this morning but the 'I'm not gay' part; truthfully though, I had guessed that you were just short of saying that had I not left so early. Is that all?"

Tai blinked, a few times and shuffled his feet again. "No, no, Um. I, I don't want you telling anyone…"

"Done." Yamato assured quickly.

Now Tai was surprised. "Just like that. You'll keep quiet about it all."

Yamato shrugged, not seeming to think it was that large of a deal. "Yeah, well, who am I going to tell anyways?" Then he added with a wicked glint in his eyes. "Also, I remember when I went through that, 'oh no, I can't be a fag' stage. It's tough," Yamato then patted Taichi's tense shoulder. "But you'll get through it. Trust me."

Yamato then walked past Taichi, towards the double doors of the auditorium-like classroom.

"I'm not!" Taichi spoke loudly, determinedly. Yamato waved bye to him as he left, not even turning to look at the other. "I'm not!" Yamato was already gone.

* * *

Loud music thundered through the building, echoing off walls as a Tantric sound left the numerous speakers stationed around the club. Loud chattering voices, masculine, deep in nature could be heard above the music. Whistles and laughter were accompanying the chatter.

Two bartender's worked at top speed to serve the numerous customers buying the overpriced drinks, the customers attention being far from their opened wallets as they watched boys and men in skimpy clothing dance erotically.

One man at the bar was fixated upon a certain dancer in particular. One with golden blond hair, and deep blue eyes, skin as pale as winter's fresh snow, one with the flawless movements of a cat; the one momentarily on stage.

He sat on the bar stool, Cheshire cat's grin panted upon his face as he drank his scotch in quiet fascination.

Yamato moved upon the stage, spinning around the pole that was there, the oily pole with other people's sweaty fingerprints still marring its surface, and swayed his hips. Spun him self to press his back to the steel object, hands still grasping it, offering him support for his fatiguing legs and creating a sexual image for those sitting around the stage watching.

He swung his hips as he gazed from face to face of his audience, squinting through the lights that were on him and finding the youngest one, the quietest one, and giving him a wink, causing the boy to blush profusely.

He heard whistles and calls made to him, he ignored them all as he continued his dance under the hot lights that made him sweat. The low riding leather pants he sore were becoming more and more difficult to move in. He was grateful as the song came to an end, collecting the tips upon the stage and exited quickly, making sure not to seem too eager to get away from the attention.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs leading from the stage Yamato was greeted by the owner of the club, an older man, with graying hair.

"Beautiful Yamato." The man greeted the blond, smiling to the young man. Yamato smiled to the owner, though the smile was a bit more weary then before, Yamato seeming to find no reason to try as hard now that he wasn't getting paid to. "Tired?"

"A bit. It's late." Yamato answered matter of factly. The older man glanced around, conscious of the customers around them, some still eyeing the blond.

He looped his arm around Yamato's waist, guiding him to a more secluded area as he spoke. "You may want to rethink that answer with what I'm about to tell you."

Yamato was brought to a corner of the bar, dark and void of people. The man slid his hand from around his waist to the small of his back, guiding the blond to stand in front of him, cornered and blocked from view.

It made Yamato nervous though he knew he shouldn't be and feigned that he wasn't. "This man came in earlier, young man in a suite. His father owns some big business and he's doing something big as well. I don't know the details."

Yamato stood quietly for a second, waiting for the other to continue, his nervousness making it hard to tell exactly what was meant by these details. Ordinarily he would have understood.

"Yamato, the man wants you in the VIP."

Yamato sighed, "I don't know. I was thinking about just going home. If I go to the VIP for him I could be there for hours."

The man stepped forward to Yamato, giving Yamato his best smile and placing a hand upon his slender shoulder, strong fingers massaging the area. "If you do this I'll get you some coke free of charge. It'll fuel you up and tomorrow I understand if you don't want to come until later, when it's busy. What do you say?"

Yamato bit his lip as he mulled the idea over in his head, feeling his resolve drop. The coke, wasn't really what he wanted. He wasn't fond of drugs, didn't like taking them, but the man who wanted him was rich, could give him one hell of a tip if he did good, and to work the rest of the night with how tired he was he'd need a drug stronger then caffeine to keep him going full till.

"What's the man's name?" Yamato asked ready to give in.

The owner laughed. "Andrew Thomas! What does it matter? He's rich, you'll get a bit of money, I get a new customer, one willing to pay the prices at the bar for all hours of the night. It's a win-win situation, Yamato. This isn't that hard of a decision."

Yamato nodded and sighed. "Alright. I'm going to be taking you up on your offers though."

* * *

Taichi brought the beer to his lips, and threw his head back, feeling the taste of beer passing his taste buds and buzzing his mind. He pulled the bronze bottle from his mouth, took a breath, and returned to the relaxed state he had been in; sitting upon the stool with his arms crossed over them selves upon the bar in front of him, beer leisurely held from his loose grasp.

The bar was crowded, people were brushing against his back as they passed, having little room to move in. They talked loudly, over the music and in drunken hazes, their slurred speeches depicting the late hour.

He wasn't that drunk though, just a comforting buzz keeping him relaxed as he watched the small television hanging above the bar; a soccer game was flashing away on the screen.

He sat with two friends, Jiro and Rei, who, too, were mimicking Taichi's leisured movements.

"Man, I'm old." Rei, who sat furthest from Taichi, muttered while glancing around the room before taking a swig of his beer. "Five years ago I would have _ruled_ this place."

"Five years ago you wouldn't have been old enough to drink." Jiro stated while Taichi laughed and the three took another swig of their beer, turning their attention back to the soccer came.

Taichi frowned as someone else had rubbed up against his back while passing; a female, with large soft breast, who shouted out apologies to those she rubbed up to while laughing as she did so, claiming that she was a little drunk in the process.

Was he weird for not thinking that was attractive? Was he weird for finding the feel of her breast to be uncomfortable?

And in his mind he began playing with that word 'weird' thinking on how it defines 'queer'.

His friend then placed an arm around his shoulder, shouting over the noise in the building, "Taichi, man, what's up? You're so out of it. You almost haven't spoken at all."

Taichi shrugged thinking all too much upon the arm over his shoulders, the muscle definition in that arm and did he really enjoy that feeling more then he did the drunk girl's supple breasts.

"I'm fine. Mostly just tired. Big day, you know."

Jiro pulled his arm from Tai then and nodded in understanding. "I'll drink to that," he said before taking a swig from his beer.

"Last call!" The bartender shouted then. Rei raised his hand to signal the tender and called for three more beers.

* * *

Yamato's face turned beet red as embarrassment swamped his mind upon entering the VIP lounge. It was just his luck that the suite he was to entertain was none other then Garik, the man who had saved his life that morning.

Garik grinned at the blonde, pleased by the reaction he had gotten. "I knew I had recognized you." Garik sat in a red chair on the far end of the narrow room, a red couch against either side of the room which rarely ever got used. The room was bright, with high ceilings and richly painted walls; soft carpet covered the floor which offered some comfort for Yamato's sore feet.

The drug Yamato had taken not long before had yet to kick in and his tired mind was having difficulty finding a response to Garik's simple statement.

Garik laughed, amused by Yamato's lack of response and beckoned the blonde with a jerk of his head. "I didn't pay the extra to watch you stand way over there. Come on. Dance."

Yamato tried desperately to calm his burning cheeks and forced his feet to walk to the man, keeping at bay his timid-ness. Yamato knew he had to feign comfort so he placed a smile upon his lips as he paced towards the man. "Sorry but you surprised me."

Upon reaching the man Yamato raised his hands above his head suggestively and started swaying his hips, ignoring the fact that there was no music in this room. The man nodded and grabbed his scotch from the small table next to the chair while his eyes roamed Yamato's body, a Cheshire smile remaining upon the man's face.

Yamato could feel the cocaine beginning to work in his body, found energy that he knew he didn't have, finding it easier to pretend that music was playing while it wasn't.

"You've worked here long?" Garik asked, eyes never leaving Yamato's body, never glancing up to Yamato's true beauty. He watched Yamato's slender sides, his narrow hips, his crotch, his ass, with fascination.

"About a year." Yamato answered easily now, embarrassment gone from his thoughts. He turned in a slow circle, hands trailing down his own body to come rest upon his hips as he continued his dance.

The man nodded even though Yamato was facing the other way now, and brought his scotch to his lips, enjoying the show.

Yamato danced in relative silence for a time, Garik seeming content in watching the blonde move, and Yamato was almost convinced that that was how the night would be, and he was happy at the thought. It was after Garik's second glass of scotch that he seemed to become friskier.

He'd sit up from time to time, and touch Yamato by tracing a finger down his back, cupping his ass, and placing a hand between his thighs as though it were a tease. Yamato seemed oblivious to this and danced as he had before.

He had just received his third beer from the server who periodically made an appearance when he decided to grab Yamato around the waist, and bring him back to sit upon him.

Yamato fell back against the larger man, and gasped in surprise, causing Garik to chuckle lightly. The man latched onto Yamato's neck as the blonde spoke. "If you want a lap dance it'll cost extra."

Garik laughed against Yamato's neck, "Not a problem," he said before he went back to sucking and nipping at the blonde's pale skin.

Yamato pushed free from the man's arm that circled his waist and gave the man what he was paying for, consciously knowing he now had a bruise in the spot Garik had been sucking.

* * *

The last half hour of happy hour Taichi spent trying to ignore a chatty drunk girl. She sat on the stool next to him, facing him, smiling widely and talking incessantly, seeming to try and make up for the lack of speech Taichi was contributing to their 'conversation'.

She was cute, sure, with her dirty blond hair and round sweet face, but she was also getting on the brunette's last nerve.

"Well, I'm done." Rei said as he swished the remnants of back wash that sat at the bottom of his beer bottle.

Jiro nodded to that and Taichi took the last slug of his beer and rested it back on the bar.

"Oh, that's so funny, 'cause I'm done too!" The girl stated before laughing. Taichi and the two others stood from their stool, Taichi grabbing his jacket and placed it around his shoulders, ready to leave. It was then that the girl stood sloppily from her stool and faced Taichi so he couldn't look elsewhere. "Wanna have sex?"

Taichi's eyes nearly bulged from his head at the blunt proposition while Rei laughed. Jiro stepped forward and placed an arm over Taichi's shoulders guiding him past the girl. "Sorry, sweetie, he's taken." Jiro joked, adding a lisp to his words.

Rei stepped towards the girl then. "You know I'm available though," he said with a wink. The girl almost seemed repulsed by that and mumbled something about needing to go home.

As the three left the bar Taichi pushed his friend away for him, upset by Jiro's implication.

"She's a drunk chic and she rejected me." Rei stated to no one in particular, sounding offended.

Neither Tai nor Jiro took note of it though because Tai was upset and Jiro felt Tai was more upset then he needed to be. "Man, what's up with you?" Jiro asked.

"Nothing." Taichi said. "I'm just not as comfortable as you are with another guy hanging off of me. That's all."

"She seemed disgusted." Rei mumbled.

"Dude, I was just messing around. You know I'm as straight as an arrow. Remember yesterday when we went to that strip joint… oh wait, that's right, you weren't there. You started talking to that guy at the Tavern and the next thing I know your gone. What happened with that, by the way?"

Rage built up in Taichi causing him to turn sharply to his friend, grabbing hold of his shirt and thrusting him into the side of the building they was passing. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey man!" Rei said, jumping to his friend's aid, resting his hands upon Taichi's white knuckle fists. "He's just bustin' your chops. Come on."

Taichi starred at Jiro's surprised face for a moment, seeming to mull things over in his head. After a moment, his grasp loosened before his arms fell to his side and his hands slipped into his pockets. With a single sigh, Taichi's aggression seemed to be gone.

Taichi stepped away from Jiro as the man fixed his shirt. "Sorry. I guess I'm just not really with it tonight. I'm kind of tired, I think I'll just head home." Taichi then turned around and left.

"You think I'm an ugly guy?" Rei asked, and the two began walking again.

"No, you're beautiful. Though those pants make your butt look big."

* * *

Yamato yawned as he walked into his small apartment, feeling the strong desire to sleep as he eyed his bed in the other room. He felt dirty, filthy, disgusting. He always felt like that when he had an over enthused customer. He needed a shower. He wanted to at least try and wash away the feeling of the other man's touch from his skin.

Deciding to put off sleep just a little while longer he took to the shower only to fail at the ultimate goal. That night he slept fitfully, still feeling the green eyed man's hands roaming over his skin.

* * *

_I'm not gay._

_I'm not gay._

Taichi's remained awake as his thoughts spiraled endlessly from the blue eyed beauty he had shared his bed with the night before, to the confirmation of his sexuality. Every time he seemed to drift off, the smell for the blonde, that salty smell that most people carried, that smell of strawberries that had come from the blonde's golden main, and that unique smell that, no matter how hard he tried, he could not begin to describe _that_ smell, came wafting up from his pillow that Yamato had used, to his nose.

It was comforting and frightful and oh-so delicious. He didn't want to fall to sleep and have that dream he'd knew he'd have though when the sand man had finally come to take him away he couldn't have been happier.

* * *

TBC… or is it… (evil laugh)

A/N: I took a small break from ROR to do this. I really like it and I'm kind of curious as to what you think. Please tell me. Andrew Thomas is a name I used, earlier. It was a joke. Andrew Thomas is the guy who appears on the 10,000 yen bill. I'm pretty sure. I found it on a website…


	2. 2 Self Acceptance

I don't own Digimon.

Self Acceptance 

Several times throughout Taichi's life from the time he had realized that boys could actually like other boys had he questioned his sexuality. Perhaps 'questioned' isn't the correct word because, fact is, he never wondered if he himself was gay. He never looked at other boys in ways that would have spun his world upside down like he had looked at the seductive blond and he definitely had never gotten drunk and ended up in bed with one of them before.

He also had never really looked at girls like that either, though. Not to say he'd never had a girlfriend, he had had a few, and not to say he was a virgin, far from, but he had more or less copied the other boys and how they acted. When someone would come to him and say, 'Hey, check out the tits on that,' he'd engage in conversation like any other boy would. Maybe the way he'd acted began as a lie, simply him pretending that he was interested, but it didn't take long for him to believe the lies himself.

That was probably why he had never quite questioned his own interests; his empathy towards both sexes. He had better things to do then worry about that. Soccer, video games and such things just seemed to be more interesting then seeking a relationship. It passed through his mind a few times; homosexuality that is. Just a curious thought, nothing to be taken seriously. As far as he saw it homosexuality wasn't an option. He had plans.

Him and his friends had probably the same plans that their parents had had at their age. Finish high school, go to college, land a career, meet a nice girl, marry her, have lots of babies and watch the plans unfold for them. That was his plan three days ago, and still today, but his happiness was what he was questioning now. What if that act he had preformed with the pretty blond haunted him, the memory, desire to repeat it, stuck with him and never left? Turned him angry, have him grow to resent the girl he'd marry as though she did something wrong to begin with.

Or maybe he'd be better of dying alone, never make anyone live with the freak that is he. What would his dad say? Would his dad call him a freak? A fairy? A pansy? Would his father forget in that one instant who he was and simply see skin hugging bones and cartilage, something foreign and odd, something grotesque.

It didn't matter. His father would never know about that night.

From time to time in his thoughts that lingered for days, in heavily populated classrooms brightened by florescent lights; on cold walks with gray skies that lasted from the school's large wooden doors to poorly built dorms; while sitting silently in front of breakfast with his roommate passed out on the old brown couch, he'd grow angry with the blond. Find him at fault. Think hurtful words he'd want to say to him, to his shimmering blue eyes and flawless pale skin and he'd think of how those words would bring tears that would redden his eyes and streak down soft cheeks. He'd then grow depressed at the thought, at his hopeless emotions and faulty hormones. He was disgusted with himself.

He'd never truly hated himself as he did then.

There was a time in which he thought he'd never grow past this point of confusion; where he'd feel those feelings of self hate, depression and desire all jumbled up in one big lump in his chest that made it hard to breath.

But it _had_ ended, quite suddenly in fact. It was so amazing when it left him, when the air was able to flow back into his lungs and they expanded with ease, that he'd never forget that moment.

It was on a Saturday. Cold, crisp Saturday in December. It was in the morning, before the sun had made it's way over the horizon and only offered enough light to chase away the stars.

He dropped his white and black soccer ball upon the frost covered grass of the school soccer field and stared for a moment into the light fog that seemed to be highlighted with pinks and oranges from the first streams of morning light.

He stood there, his breath white in the air, being pushed away into dispersing by the soft breeze that drifted by, leaving goosebumps upon his skin. His gray hoody and blue shorts were no way near appropriate for the harsh weather that came that winter but he knew that soon enough he'd be too warm for that and a coat that only trapped his sweat to him would be worst.

His mind was clear as he stared into oblivion and in heaven's time that felt so short and so long he could really feel the heavy weight in his heart. It was dragging him down like a bolder in a sea, drenching him in hopelessness and filling his lungs.

If anyone could have seen him there, in that moment, there would have been no doubt in their minds of the agony of choice the young man was faced with and though he felt the hopelessness tugging at his skin, trying to get deeper into him, get inside where it could hold good weight, consume him fully and kill his soul, he fought it. The depression in his mind was there but he refused to give into it.

His brown eyes hardened, eyebrows furrowed and the moisture cleared, refusing to give himself over, refusing to give up on himself. The reflection in his eyes of the fog and the sun's first peak past the earth seeming like heaven's window opening to him. He couldn't see it though. Didn't know of the window of choice, didn't know he was making a decision that day that would depict the rest of his life and his hardships for the next year. All he knew was of the feeling of fight in his chest, the black and white ball sitting paces before him like an enemy on a battle field, and the weight on his mind to do something to stop the smothering ocean from swallowing him whole.

In the next moment he seemed to jolt the still of pre-dawn when he first kicked himself forward with strong legs to suddenly charge full-thrust forward towards the soccer ball. With one good slug he sent the ball sailing through the air, cutting the fog and disturbing the frost that was settled on the grass. A few winter birds chirped, the wind picked up and the first of the sun's light touched the earth, spreading long, ominous shadows along the school's ground.

He moved like his life depended on it. His foot gave another good slug to the offended object and he turned direction, heading east now instead of north. The muscles in his legs moved and stretched and grew with every strong step he gave, charging through the field. His arms punching at his sides, hands fisted in determination. His strength; his stealth; his power; his heart pounding in his chest, echoing in his ears and that despair, that bolder telling him to give up. And his eyes grew harder. And his breath grew heavier. And his legs grew stronger. And he grew faster. And his mind grew clearer.

His thoughts of there own accord came to him with memories, cryptic messages that he now couldn't claim he didn't understand because, with his mind so clear, he couldn't lie to himself anymore. He could see through his lies to the truth even if the truth he didn't like.

He jumped to the air, pulling his legs up and landing in front of his target, changing directions with another good slug and he refused to stop.

Images passed before his eyes, past girlfriends; starting with childhood friend Sora. He remembered her short red hair and how silky/smooth it felt. He remembered her pink lips, and freckled face. Her pales skin and her sincere smile. Her compassionate eyes. He remembered why he had ended it and how lost she had looked when he had.

He remembered Kira; her long brown hair hung in one long braid down her back, a look that didn't flatter but she was pretty enough that it hadn't mattered. Her pretty green eyes and the way her body looked naked laying upon her dark red comforter. Small breasts with inverted nipples, skin that hugged her hip bones just a tad to much. And most of all he remembered how her shoulders quivered as he explained to her back why they were not meant to be and how sorry he had felt for her when he saw her red tear-streaked face.

And, of course, there was Jasmine with her dirty blond hair, her spontaneous behavior and how he thought she looked better when she had shaved her head one day out of shear spontaneity. The lipstick she'd wear would leave marks on his cheeks and neck and he'd never realize until he got home and his mom would stare at him for a second or two until asking what he wanted for dinner. He remembered her rosy cheeks, and the smile she gave him when she had another scheme she wanted to involve him in. And, of course, he remembered the look of rage on her face and the pain in her eyes when he told her that they couldn't be together forever and ever like they had promised.

He had always been the one to end things because he never wanted to end up with them. He entered the relationships knowing it was just a fling and wanting nothing more to do with it then that. Not only was that now obvious to him but also was the fact that not once was he the one to initiate the relationship. He said 'yes' when asked because 'no' didn't seem to be an option. Like homosexuality wasn't an option. Was he in denial the entire time? How long had he been denying that he might be gay? In a way he didn't want to know the answer but knew it now more then he had ever known anything before and the answer scared him.

With the fear Taichi had grown stronger, pushing himself across the field even with his well used muscles now telling him he was pushing too far. His burning lungs were used to abuse but not like this but he ran on. He ran on as though he ran from the answers and the thoughts that plagued him.

After he had broken up with Jasmine his friend's had taken him to a strip club and bought him enough booze for him to forget his own name, not only Jasmine's. It was a celebration, they had said, of his 'dogness'; his new single status and independence. No longer baring the chains and collar, he was roaming free and able to sleep with anyone he wanted. He figured that they had hoped he'd be going home with a stripper but he had not. He awoke with a throbbing headache on his couch, to recover alone and he had preferred it that way.

The idea of waking up to find some girl in his bed disgusted him. Waking up with Yamato there, in his arms like they were, with his head spinning from the booze the night before was far more pleasant then any girl.

He remembered Yamato standing there before him inside the auditorium style classroom. His white button up shirt lining the curves of his sides, his thinness, his blue inquisitive eyes turning to understanding and so carelessly, as though he hadn't really spoken to anyone in a long time, stated "I remember when I went through that, 'oh no, I can't be a fag' stage. It's tough. But you'll get through it. Trust me." It was said with humor; Yamato teasing Taichi about his insecurities but it was meant as more then that and the simple statement 'You'll get through it. Trust me." played in Taichi's mind giving a new feeling to his heart.

He came to the goalie's net, lined his target with expertise seen by few, and took one final lunge forward lifting his foot back and giving the ball a wallop sending it through the air, cutting the dispersing fog and landing past the bars that represented a goalies net. It bounced a few times against the brown grass and rolled until it stilled and there it stood to rest much like Taichi stood at _his_ point of rest. His breath was harsh but slowly calmed, his sweat covered face dried with the light breeze that wafted by, and his sore muscles took there praise in the rest they were given and the pain slowly waned as well.

His eyes stared unseeing into the grass a few feet before him and after a silence that a lasted an indescribable time Taichi murmured, "You'll get through this. Trust me." And he did trust it, because he knew he was strong enough.

In that moment he made a decision, it wasn't the easy decision he had thought he would have made but when it was made he new he had made it correctly for in his next breath he hadn't hurt His chest felt free of that weight he thought would never leave him and his mind was clear instead of sweltering with jumbling thoughts. This time he chose that he would only hear the truth that his mind would speak to him and nothing more.

When Taichi had left the soccer field that day with his ball tucked under one arm and his head held high, the sun was growing high in the sky and the fog of early morning had long dispersed, Taichi had walked off that field leaving all certainty for the future behind. He was frightened but confident in his strength. He knew he'd need that in the days to come.

Yamato sat still at his small circular dinner table, a single light brightened where he sat, dark clouds of that Saturday sky kept light from creeping in through his windows, one in the kitchen where he sat and one window in his little dark living room behind him. A thin blue blanket lay over his shoulders offering him warmth as he focused sea blue eyes upon his text book and the few mangled notebooks that lay sprawled across the light colored wood surface.

His arms were tucked into his chest, his hands holding one another in his lap, obvious of the chill he felt. His eyes stared over the words in his text, reading the same sentence time and time again, his mind seeming to find difficulty focusing in the dead silence of his apartment.

He blinked a few times, moistening his dry eyes, and leaned back in his chair, stretching the muscles in his back by rotating his shoulders. He tugged the blanket around him hugging his chest in the process while glancing at his clock. Still hours to go before he had to go to work.

He startled a little as his phone began to ring atop an end table beside his bedroom door several feet away. He sighed and shook his head to clear his mind. He made no move to answer it. He never did. If it was important they'd leave a message and he'd call back, depending, of course, who it was that was calling.

Being of more intrigue then the homework before him he focused his attention on the ringing, waiting three, four rings before the sound of a beep sounded in the still air of his apartment. "This is Ishida Yamato's answering machine. You know what to do."

He smirked at the sound of his recording. Short and simple. It's been two years and he wasn't about to change that message yet.

"Hey, Matt, it's your brother. I haven't heard from you in a while." There was a small pause, as if his brother, Takeru, wasn't sure how to continue. "Um, just hoping you're alright and stuff." Another small pause followed by a sigh and a much more serous tone, "Yamato, call me this time, okay? I'm really starting to get worried. I hate it when you do this! I left you two other messages! I even came over yesterday and, again, you weren't there! Why do-" Another loud beep and Takeru was cut off mid sentence.

Yamato sat still in the silence of his apartment for several minutes thereafter, his thoughts running through his mind and forced back out through inner turmoil. He was used to those thoughts plaguing guilt and his reasoning mind telling him why he should be the last one to feel guilty. It was exhausting to here the same argument time and time again playing out between his ears.

He shook his mind clear, leaning forward once again to try and focus upon his text books. It was fruitless though, he knew it from the beginning. Even before Takeru's call he already knew it was pointless to continue pining over the hopelessness of his mind retaining new information right now. He already knew that he would find himself changing into new clothing, work cloths, covering them with sweat cloths, and leaving his apartment in favor of a place with people and distractions and music and alcohol.

Two O'clock in the afternoon didn't mean he couldn't have a few drinks. It wouldn't be the first time he went to work feeling a little buzzed. It helped, in fact, when he did.

God, if his friend's from back in high school only knew that conservative little Yamato worked at a gay strip club downtown... He'd be sure they wouldn't believe it even if they saw it.

In an ironic way it was sort of funny... Sometimes, when he thought about it _really_ hard on those lonely nights, after escorting himself home from a bar. It was so funny that sometimes he'd even laugh about it. He'd laugh until he'd cry, until he'd sleep.

It was just how it was, though, and that's why he'd try not to think about it.

Mid afternoon in the college dormitories, or more specifically Taichi's dormitories, in Taichi's room, the mentioned brunet lay awake upon the comforter of his bed staring at his ceiling. He held a cordless phone in his fist next to himself, wondering if he was ready to speak an apology to his good friend Jiro. He wanted to deny to himself that he was nervous to do so but, because of the promise he made to himself, he couldn't. He was scared to call his friend. He knew Jiro would be forgiving as long as he didn't ask Taichi why he acted the way that he had. With Taichi's expression of anger the last night he was with the guys and then how the brunet avoided all contact with them... well, Taichi wasn't quite ready to give his explanation for his odd behavior.

Right now he didn't want to let the world know something he considered so intimate about himself that he only had barely discovered it himself. Until he was more comfortable about his preferences he was going to remain in the metaphorical closet until he was good and ready. To Taichi there was no reason to rush it.

So if his friend had to ask, demanded an answer without the chance for Taichi to evade it, Taichi was going to lie: He had a girlfriend he was keeping secret and they broke up so he was stressed and depressed the past little while; School was just getting to him. He did horrible on the last assignment and his 'make up' project was giving him troubles; Maybe he'd use both excuses.

He didn't know, he couldn't really think straight. His roommate had his music, some kind of emo-metal song blaring through the paper thin walls, same song for three hours, repeating and skipping, giving him a migraine. His roommate had a girl over and every hour or so he could hear them doing it, hear them over the screaming in the song and it was infuriating him.

He could say something to his dorm mate, again, and be laughed at, again, and called a prune, again, but it would solve nothing. Besides, he was pretty sure his roommate was going to be kicked out next semester anyways. The guy was as big as he was dumb, didn't study, and recently has stopped going to class all together, at least as far as Taichi had seen.

Sighing Taichi sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, and bringing into his view the white cordless phone. Another sigh and Taichi pushed the sounds of the music from his mind and dialed the familiar number.

It rang nearly four times, enough times that Taichi had nearly thought he'd not be answered, started wondering if his friend was through with him after his behavior, though, knowing his friend, it was a foolish thought.

"Y'ello," came the familiar voice, casual, friendly, and inquisitive; Like he didn't have caller ID...

Taichi took a deep breath and forced a smile, trying to seem confident "Hey, it's me."

"Ha, Taichi. Long time no talk. I started thinking you were cheating on me." The smile became less forced at the joke, and some of the muscles Taichi hadn't realized were tense began relaxing.

"Me? Cheating? Never."

"Yeah. That's what they all say..." The sentence seemed to trail off, joke seeming forgotten an a silence that seemed to follow. Taichi could hear shuffling on the other side of the line, and though he became curious as to why he was also focused on the reason for his call.

Taichi cleared his throat to get his friend's attention again. "Hey, I wanted to apologize for how I acted awhile ago. I..."

"Yeah, I know, that time of the month. I get it. No need to apologize." Jiro joked.

Taichi laughed, "Fuck you, man."

"Yeah, you wish." Jiro said before going quite again.

Curiosity resurfaced for Taichi and this time he didn't ignore it. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"Hm?" There was a pause on the other line where no sound could be heard except his friend's breathing. Taichi was about to repeat himself when his friend spoke. "Oh! Um... Hey, you want to meet me at 'Twaz Games'."

Taichi tilted his head to the side and switched the phone from his right ear to his left. "Man, You know how cold it is out there."

"Hey, don't pretend you don't want to. Besides, I just got something in the mail that you'll have to see to believe."

"Sure. Thirty minutes good for you."

"Whatever. Just be there."

Pinging, dinging, engines roaring, 'whoops' of glory, and cries of unjust. These were the sounds that assaulted Taichi's ears as he entered the dank looking arcade, with its black walls cloaked in rock band posters; large windows covering the front narrow wall allowing light only so far into the narrow business. Several racing games lined the left wall, ping ball machines scattered haphazardly in the center walkway, a counter to the left, and at the furthest stretches of the building, where natural light could not quite touch, was a pool table.

That was where Taichi had headed that day. Pool was a college student's game, a man's game, and though he would have enjoyed a good pin ball game instead it was there that he would always head on days when people he knew would see him. His friend wasn't there yet, it was obvious, but he knew Jiro would be soon.

Taichi reached into his jean pockets, feeling for the change he knew was there. After a bit of jingling he pulled out a few coins and placed them on the ledge of the table. He swept the lint from his pile of metal and grabbed what he knew he'd need.

He circled the table in habit, and crouched down at the spot where the money slot was. A moment latter the familiar sounds of the balls jolting and rolling, preparing to be received, was heard. Along with those sounds were also Jiro's greeting, a quick little attention grabber that sounded too casual, like there was excitement behind the casual greeting; an electricity that just wanted to get out.

Standing, with a smile spreading from cheek to cheek, Taichi returned his greeting which was quickly followed by a, "So what was it that you wanted to show me?"

Instead of an immediate answer he said, "You are one lucky fucker, I tell ya." Taichi rolled his eyes but let his friend continue without interruption, "Calling me to make up on the same day I get these in the mail." That was when that excitement started showing, coming in first as a wide, stretching of his lips, a smile from ear to ear, followed by the larger show of throwing down four narrow pieces of paper on the pool table, allowing Taichi to reach out and grab them.

"Malice Mizer!" Jiro exclaimed as Taichi grabbed at the four concert tickets upon the table, an expression of curious shock creasing Taichi's features. "Fifth row, center. If Mana sweats you get soaked. I mean, that close."

"Awe, Man. This is, like, incredible!" Taichi exclaimed and nearly screamed like a school girl before catching himself in time and putting on a tough guy look; mild interest, and broadening his shoulders but the smile was still there as Taichi scanned over the tickets as though they were the holy grail. It hadn't lasted long though since Taichi's eyes then caught the date of the concert and he turned worried eyes upon his friend. "These are for next week?"

"Yup." Jiro replied with a smug grin, not seeming to notice Taichi's change, or, perhaps, he was used to the brunette's mood swings.

"What about exams?"

Now catching the concern in his friend's expression he stepped forward, taking the tickets back and nudging Taichi's arm with his elbow. "It's not during the exams. You just have to put off studying for a night, is all. Besides, we'll go out, have a bit of fun, feel relaxed and ready for whatever school throws at us. It'll actually help." It was awfully close to the exam period though, Taichi thought; the second last chance he'd have to study and his math course was killing him. Though, Taichi thought, he already knew that he was not going to miss that concert. His mind was made up despite all reason.

With a sigh and his smile returning he asked, "So, we're bringing Rei and who else."

"Puh!" Jiro said, stepping back into his own personal space as he placed the tickets back into his pocket, safe and sound. "We're not bringing Rei. You kidding?" He circled the pool table and started placing the pool balls on the green. "Nah. I was thinking I could bring a date and you could bring a date."

The nervous streak that ran through Taichi at that moment the brunet had hid reasonably well as he sought a cue for the pair to play with. "Who would_ I_ bring?" Taichi questioned, sounding cynical.

Jiro shrugged as he set the balls into the Triangle selectively. "Don't know? How 'bout that cute red head girl you used to hang out with. What's her name?"

Taichi raised an eye brow, cue in hand, and walked towards the table, waiting for his friend to finish. "Sora?"

Jiro grinned and looked up for a moment. "Yeah, Sora. Why not her?"

"Because when you break up with someone, it kinda means you won't be dating again."

Jiro rolled his eyes, finished with the balls; he placed the triangle back then leaned onto the edge of the table casually. "So, go as friends."

Taichi handed the cue to Jiro before responding. "If we go as friend's I might as well just bring a guy."

"No~" Jiro whined, drawing out the sound of the 'o' appearing very much like a disgruntled child. He then grabbed the cue and heading around the table to grab the cue ball. "Don't do that."

"Well, why not?" Taichi exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. "If we go as friends then you'll be the only one with a date and Sora and I'll feel left out while you start making out with whomever you're with." Jiro opened his mouth to speak but before he could Taichi aimed a pointing finger at him, "And don't say you won't because you will. You always do. At least if I'm with a guy I can go off and have a guy night."

Jiro placed the white ball upon the green and got ready to line up his shot for the break while he spoke, "Yeah, but what if you like my girl and... well like I said; Sora's cute." He took the shot, the 'rock' cracking against the nearest point of the triangle of balls, knocking them about, sinking none but spacing them out enough to satisfy both players. Jiro gave Taichi a pervert's grin. "By the way, I sort of like the fiery red-head look." Then he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Taichi rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to bring Sora there just so you can hit on her."

Jiro sighed and handed over the cue. "Fine, fine. But bring a girl because the girl I'm going to ask I know won't come if she thinks she's going to be the only girl there. She's weird like that."

Taichi laughed a little and circled the table looking for a shot. "Alright." Taichi said, spotting his target and angling up. "But it's not going to be Sora."

And with that Taichi struck the cue ball, thusly ending the conversation.

"Hey, Sora? It's me, Tai." Taichi said, speaking into his white cordless the following day as he passed back and forth across his living room at the back side of the old brown couch. For the moment his home was silent, his room mate had been passed out in his bedroom for hours, the reasons for it, this time, Taichi had no details for.

Taichi loved the silence of the apartment, it contented him, placed him in a good mood that almost seemed a foreign state to him after such a long bout of depression. He even smiled as he listened to the cherished voice on the other side of the conversation.

"Taichi!" Sora chirped, sounding pleased to hear from him. " God, it's been a while. How have you been? We've been missing you. "

Taichi laughed a little, smiling into the calm atmosphere of his dorm. "Geez, Sor. I'm just across town. It's not like I left the country or anything." He said, evading the question Sora had posed.

"Yeah, I know." She said, sounding amused. "But it's as good as if you just shift off somewhere else. We haven't seen you since early October. Remember? It was when you said we had to celebrate health and sports day by drinking a lot at a sports bar and only ordering drinks the color of fruits." Sora reminded cheerfully. Taichi's grin widened into a self approving smirk. "Jyou still talks about it." She added with a giggle.

Taichi laughed. "Yeah... Jyou needs to get out more."

Sora chuckled a little before asking the inevitable question. "So, what's up Taichi? I know you didn't just call to talk."

Stopping his pacing to lean his rear on the couch for a moment, he crossed an arm over his chest and said, "What makes you suggest that? We haven't talked in a while. I just thought..."

"Don't try to B.S. me, Tai. I've known you forever; long enough at least to know you never call to just talk."

Giving an approving smile to the logic Taichi cut to the point. "Yeah, well, I have this friend who won some tickets to a Malice Mizer concert next week, Tuesday night, and wanted to know if you'd like to come."

After a moment's pause Sora asked, "Which friend?"

"His names Jiro. You met him a few times." Taichi said casually though cringing at the expected reaction.

"Ugh, Taichi. Jiro? Are you kidding? I don't like you being around him, no less wanting myself to be. Ugh."

Sighing Taichi pushed himself to standing again and resumed pacing . "Why, Sora? Why don't you like him? He's a good guy. Besides, it's Malice Mizer. Malice Mizer. I know you want to see them. I know you have a thing for Gaz. Long dark hair, deep eyes... You're going to say you're not even interested?"

Sora laughed, "It sounds like I'm not the only one 'interested'." She said it in such a way, her voice giving that suggestive tone at 'interested' that Taichi found himself frozen to the spot. His heart stopped, his breathing became labored; then he couldn't breath, his mind started fuzzing and somewhere in his head a little voice told him to respond in some way. Any way!

"Wh-what?" And once the word was spoken it was as if his body was fast forwarding to catch up with time. He started moving again, jittery, his hands seemed to not be able to stop shaking, his breathing was fast and he tried to steady it; his mind was racing.

How could she know? How was it possible? The blond! He gossiped, bragged about their night together. Oh God...

"Taichi, Taichi. You okay?"

His body must have caught up with the time he lost because his mind cleared again; the questions went away and reason came back. He stopped his jittery pacing and leaned back against the brown couch. He listened to Sora call his name a few more times as he got himself under control. "Taichi, Taichi!"

One more deep breath. "Uh, yeah? Sorry. I-I wasn't paying attention. I got distracted by something I saw in the courtyard, out the kitchen window. What were you saying?" He bit his lip but wasn't really worried about her because even if she didn't believe him he could trust that she'd be kind enough to drop the subject... Though, he knew, she'd now be suspicious.

Sora sighed, and when she spoke she lost the merry tone to her voice and now spoke more seriously. "Nothing. Just a joke." With another sigh she got back on subject. "Yeah, Tai, I am interested. I mean I went to one of there concerts last year and loved it. They have great stage performance, and," She added, sounding like a smile may now be touching her lips, amused again. "Gaz is pretty cute, I'll give you that."

She paused in thought for a moment or two, Taichi remained quiet in her pondering, feeling her slowly resolving to choice. "Will it just be Jiro, you and I?" She asked softly.

A small smile returned to Taichi's lips. "No. Another girl will be there, though I don't know who."

Another moment of thought and he heard Sora sigh. "Alright, I'll think about it. That doesn't mean I will, just that I'll weigh my options, 'kay?"

Taichi grinned from ear to ear. "Sure, take your time. Just remember it's next Tuesday. Not this Tuesday, next Tuesday. Got it?"

"Yup. Okay, I've got to go. Mother's waving me over. I'll let you know by then. Talk to you soon."

Taichi nodded, "Bye, Sor." Then he hung up the phone, knowing that, for Sora, 'maybe' always meant 'yes'.

The thudding base of the tantric music, the wordless song, was the only sound Yamato chose to hear. It beat like a heart to the blond, pounded in a rhythm that he swayed his hips to, moved his arms to, even blinked to. Flashing lights of blues, oranges, reds, and yellows blinded him to his audience, made him feel invisible in his sparse dress. The sweat poured down his face in streams; his hair was soaked and flung about as he threw his head back lifted his arms high above his head to grip the pole with his slender, sweat drenched fingers.

He'd be a fool to hang from the pole when his body was so moist so hadn't even tried to. He just focused on the beat and it pounding in waves against his body, jerking him into motion, moving him suggestively.

He felt the end of the song coming, felt the beat quickening, pushing him forward, towards the crowds he'd hate to remember were there. He fell to his knees, flung his arms forward onto the stage and slowly laid his body out, turning himself face-up, staring into the blinding lights above.

He chose not to hear the excitement of the crowds as they shouted approvingly but, unfortunately, he couldn't block out the feel of their hands on him as they touched him, ran their hands upon his bare sweaty stomach, sides, thighs, slipping bills into his black thong, the last pay he'd receive for the night.

The muscles in his abs tightened as he lifted himself from the stage without the use of his arms, his thighs tightened as he brought himself elegantly to his feet as though he were a puppet on strings. He swayed a few more times as the beating quickened then halted all at once, dropping his body to crouching on the stage as the music ended and lights faded all to blues. He was done, thank god, and quickly collected his clothing and left the stage.

As discreetly as possible, though he could still feel eyes upon him, he entered into the back room next to the stage and clothed himself; slipped back on his tight leather pants, placed on the lacy short sleeve top then attended his locker for the rest of his clothing, his sweats. The red zip up hoody, his black jogging pants. He smiled at the thought that he'd finally be able to leave that place, though cringed at the thought of going home. That empty, depressing place with it's paint chipped white walls and old wood floors...

He amused the idea of heading first to a bar to grab a few drinks , after all it was barely 10:30 that Wednesday but he knew he'd be best to study for the upcoming exams and thought it best if he just went home.

He collected the money he had earned that night, a nice sum for a weekday, and placed it into his shirt pocket, zipping up the pocket to keep it safe. Then he threw on his brown coat and left that small quiet room, entering again into the club area but this time without receiving so much as a glance. Nothing to look at anymore since he was now dressed. He offered himself a small smile of gratification at his ability to go unseen by most, even with his stunning golden crown.

Before leaving he headed to the near empty bar and tapped his knuckles against the counter twice to get the tenders attention. He received a smile from his co-worker who came over and asked, "Your usual?"

With a simple nod he was given a double shot of Bacardi, on the house. It was sort of a ritual for him, helped him with his thoughts on the walk home. He took the shot, squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as the liquid burned it's way down his throat. Opening his mouth, he exhaled to try and push the foul taste out which seemed to work because the burning started to fade after that.

He then tapped the counter once more and shouted a thanks as he took his leave.

The cold night air stung his cheeks and the tip of his nose as he left the establishment. The night was warmer then it had been in a while but that still meant very cold to Yamato. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and glanced up into the clear night sky, a few stars could be seen by him threw the light pollution that radiated from the near by street lamp. His breath was white in the air and distorted his sight as he looked up.

Shivering as the cold began penetrating his coat he started on, turning left down the sidewalk, towards home. The brick building was more long then wide and there was a small parking area to his left. He often ignored it for it mostly remained empty on weekdays, sometimes he'd see someone catching a smoke there but not on this day.

He didn't realize why he had even looked this time, he was usually focused on his lonely thoughts, with his head bowed down in display of his solitude, but not this time. He wasn't usually observant but this time he had noticed something; a black car, shrouded in shadows with a light turned on in the inside, shinning on it's occupant.

As he passed the parking area the person on the inside got out and turned towards him. Even in the dark he recognized the silhouette, with his long gray trench coat, his finely styled brown hair, broad shoulders, tall figure and, though he couldn't see them, he felt in his heart that he could see those green piercing eyes staring through him.

Yamato kept walking, feeling uneasy and wanting nothing more then to be home.

"Off work already?" Garik said, sounding amused as hequickened his pace to catch up to the blond.

Yamato wasn't fond of this man. Garik had come nearly every Friday night to request Yamato in the VIP room and, though Yamato hated it, Yamato had danced for Garik _every time_ he was requested to do so, except for once.

It was good money but the more he danced the more he felt he knew this man; knew his greediness, his power hungry drive, his unkindly nature. If Yamato's looks had not been so stunning to Garik he would have surely let Yamato walk out into traffic without a second thought that one day, months ago. He would have let him die that day because, otherwise, Garik just wouldn't have cared.

It was last Sunday that Garik had made his appearance, instead of Friday, and had requested Yamato just before the blond was to leave for home. Yamato had to refuse, being a school night and all. During Yamato's after work ritual Garik had stormed angrily to the blond, acted so aggressive that the bouncers had to escort him out.

The man did not like being refused, Yamato had learned. The blond had sincerely thought he'd never see the man again and now that he was proven wrong, he was scared.

"I need to get home." Yamato said nervously, more to himself then anyone else. He quickened his own pace feeling the need to put distance between himself and the other. He knew he was in a dangerous situation just by being in the other's presence right now.

"Wait!" Garik said as he caught up with the blond and, just before Yamato turned to flight, caught the upper of Yamato's arm, yanking him back towards the green-eyed man. Yamato let out a yelp but his mouth was quickly covered.

Full panic erupted from Yamato's brain at that moment, he could smell the scent of rum on Garik's fingers, perhaps from a spilled drink, and knew the man would not come to his senses until the following day at the earliest.

"Shut up." Garik ordered, growled out to the blond in his hold. "Stay still." .

But Yamato continued trying to scream through the large hand that covering his face, his hands went to it, clawing at it, trying to get free. Garik was tugging him backwards, back towards the parking lot, and Yamato kicked out, dragging his heals against the ground, trying to use his weight against the man.

For a moment he had thought it had worked for he found himself let go, falling towards the pavement, letting out a scream and he tried to get up, to run, but he hadn't gotten the chance. Garik was on him then, holding him down with a firm hand on his chest and he started pounding his fists into Yamato's head, mostly hitting the back of his head and his crown. Yamato curled in on himself the best he could, holding his arms up and around his face to try and protect himself.

His screams had stopped as the hand on his chest forced the air from his lungs and made it impossible to breath. A fist came down on the back of his head, above his spin and struck hard. Dots fluttered about his vision, his thoughts became distorted and his defenses fell away.

He struggled with consciousness as he felt himself lifted up and over one strong shoulder. He remembered he needed to fight but couldn't quite remember why.

He was staring down at the pavement, at the shadows that stretched and shrank away and ones that came and left his sight entirely. There was one shadow that came but never left. This shadow was dark and made things hard for him to see. The pavement turned black and it seemed as though he was in darkness, falling into a slumber, the first stages of sleep before the dream... but he wasn't. He was very much awake and he hadn't realized that until he found himself thrown into the back seat of a car with soft gray seats.

The light from the front seats of the car was on and woke him from his stupor. He felt the jogging pants on him being removed and panic resumed. He let out a sound, a small worrisome sound that had meant to be a scream and he quickly reached out and took hold of the handle of the door by his head.

It clicked open but then his ankle was tugged and he was dragged further from it, still within arms reach but far enough to not let it do him any good.

Yamato tried to kick Garik but it was useless because Garik was between his legs, leaning over him with a wicked grin. The green-eyed man was trying to undo his pants. Yamato tried to push him away but he wasn't close to strong enough. "Please stop..." He begged, his voice sounding small and pathetic. "Please..."

Garik ignored the plea though grunted at the difficult button he was dealing with. Yamato tried to push his hands away but he could already see it was fruitless. Tears pooled in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks and fell onto the leather seats. Heat rose in his cheeks, reddening his face in such a pretty way that it gave Garik more reason to continue.

"Stop..." Yamato begged through a soft little sob.

The sound of a horn, came from the streets followed by a few shouts of joy.

Garik got startled, jumped and banged his head upon the ceiling of the car. He got out to tend to his head, looking towards the street to see some kids who were driving down the street and treating that weekday like a weekend, shouting profanities from the windows of the car joyously and drunkenly. From the corner of his eye he noticed movement and saw his victim bolting from the situation like there was no tomorrow.

Yamato had been all too happy at the opportunity he was given and pushed himself across the seat, pushed open the opposite side door and fell out of the car head first. He lifted himself from the grown and ran as fast as he could, in no particular direction.

He wasn't thinking about going home, or to his parents, or anywhere, he just wanted to be gone. Adrenaline pushed his legs to move him faster then he had ever thought he could possibly have gone Running down streets, and turning around building, fear pumping in him to keep moving and it hadn't mattered one bit if he could see where he was going or not.

Yet unknown by him he wasn't being followed by anyone. Garik had remained by his car when he saw the blond vanish across the street going faster then he knew he himself could go. He remained behind to sulk in his failure, would probably go home to his bottle of Crown Royal, and call up a hooker to help relieve himself.

Yamato, on the other hand, had run quite a distance before he had realized that he wasn't being chased. He had slowed his pace until he was walking, slowed his walking until he was standing and when he had finally looked up and glanced about his surroundings he was shocked to realize he had run all the way to school. He was standing before the large grassy field in front of his school, before a bench by a willow tree next to a bus stop. He collapsed upon the bench in exhaustion, breathing heavy into the cold night air.

The street lamp above highlighted the puffs of clouds that left Yamato's lips. He leaned forward, placing one hand on each ear, cupping his head as he leaned forward with his head between his knees. Tears stung his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks. The small sobs that escaped his chest hurt his burning lungs and he tried to stop them but he couldn't.

He sat there for a long time, afraid to go home, afraid to be alone. He wanted to go to his parents and ask them to protect him and love him like they used to, before they found out about him, but he knew he couldn't; he wanted to go to his friends, have the feelings he felt erased from his heart and chest and mind but they no long were around, scattered apart throughout the country; he didn't want to be alone and just wanted to feel safe but such desires were an impossible reality for him now days and the thoughts only made him sob harder then ever.

Taichi sat in his room glaring hard at his homework which was sprawled out over his desk in a mess that seemed to make perfect sense to him. It was his math homework, which usually frustrated him more then any other course and found he needed extra thought when dealing with it but, even so, fact was that it wasn't his math homework that had him really upset right now. It was just his homework that was taking the fierce glare with nobility seen by few text books in that school.

The actual culprit for Taichi's anger sat in the other room playing some sort of three hour long techno dance song on top volume which was something his room mate always did, Taichi knew, after taking a couple of really small white pills that he'd get from his brother. Taichi didn't know much about narcotics but he did know that those pills would keep his room mate, and his guests, active throughout the night and for most of the next day.

Taichi growled and dug his fingernails into the arm of his computer chair as he heard a couple of loud bangs, a lot of laughing and a knock at his door a moment after before his room mate stuck his head in to ask Taichi to join them. Apparently one of the girls felt lonely and wanted to meet him.

That was a lie, he knew it. The only other time his room mate had asked for him to join there friends he tried to feed him drugs then ridiculed him endlessly for 'being a prune'. Shouting out, periodically, in changing tones, a number of insults that became more annoying then upsetting.

Growling out of aggravation Taichi completely ignored his black haired room mate's offer. He stood from his desk, collected his books, placed them into his back pack and decided that he was not dealing with this tonight. He decided he was heading to the library, a part of which was opened twenty four hours on all days but Sunday for students to study in when they needed. And, boy, did Taichi need.

His room mate had gotten the wrong idea though when he had seen Taichi take a stand and went into the living room to inform the other's that he'd be joining them. Taichi didn't care what they thought.

He threw his coat on, lifted his back pack over one shoulder and left the apartment through the living room, the occupants of that room seeming to forget that he was coming, and not seeming to notice that he had even left.

He hadn't cared. To hell with them! He thought. To hell with them! He couldn't wait until his room mate was expelled. Damn his education! Damn him! And as always the cold air hit his face and cooled the anger in him as it did his heated cheeks.

He walked briskly down the short stretch of sidewalk towards the front of the school, angry thoughts leaving his mind and opening him up to notice what was around him again, and what had been around him before. Like the star filled sky, the motorist that drove by despite the late hour, and the sound of distant sobs.

The later had been what caught his attention so, caused his steps to slow and try to have his sneakers hit the pavement soundlessly. The sound was heart wrenching, so sorrowful; filled with pain that needed to escape so desperately.

With the silence that Taichi had created then the sound was able to be pinpointed to a figure on a bench, a distance before him. Now it had occurred to the brunet to ignore the sound and let the poor soul express their heart in solitude, without fear of humiliation but Taichi knew he'd be disappointed in himself if he _at least _hadn't checked to be sure that they were alright.

So he had trudged on, taking soft steps towards the sound and, upon seeing that familiar head of blond hair laced through fingers that were cupping his head, he knew he could not turn back now. Taichi stepped forward slowly, unsure of what to do, if he _could_ do anything at all, he removed his back pack from his shoulders and brought it to sit on the ground beside the bench.

Yamato must have heard it, despite Taichi's efforts to be quiet, and startled, gasped and spun terrified blue eyes upon Taichi. The look of fear on that face, the small pink lips lay agape in a frown, face reddened from tears. Those eyes, they were so fearful and bloodshot Taichi knew he'd never forget that look he received then and nearly wished he had chosen not to investigate the sound.

Yamato's red eyes seemed surprised to see the brunet but did not return to a less fearful expression until the blond had swung his head about and observed his surroundings. When they had returned to eying the brunet they were more calm and Taichi felt comfortable enough to offer a warm smile and take a seat next the pale man.

Yamato, though, looked weary at the closeness the act brought them, blue eyes scanned the distance between the two on the bench before relenting and focusing those eyes upon the road instead, leaning forward upon his elbows that were placed on his knees, he allowed no more tears to fall after that.

Taichi wasn't sure what to do just yet. Yamato never seemed to do what he thought the blond man would, as though Yamato didn't much care about how society suggested one should act. The lack of response, greeting, acknowledgment, or anything left Taichi speechless and searching through scrabbled words on how to begin.

"Um..." Taichi tried, knowing that this was the first time seeing each other after a long time and they weren't exactly close to begin with so he shouldn't be too casual but he knew he should sound sympathetic while also not being too prying. The only thing he thought he could say was, "So, how are you doing?" which is just what he did.

After a short pause Yamato laughed, a smile spreading over his reddened face and shook his head at the brunette's ridiculous question. "I forgot how cute you were." Yamato simply stated before his smile slowly turned into a frown and then his face went expressionless again.

Taichi blushed and squirmed in his seat. On the plus side he was sort of proud of himself for getting the blond to laugh even though, now, he felt sort of embarrassed in himself. He took a breath, knowing he had to speak again or no more words would come. "I'm sorry," he began, turning to look away from the blond as he spoke, afraid that if he didn't he'd loose all nerve and leave it at that, giving the wrong impression. "I just don't know what to say."

He spoke so honestly that Yamato sat up from his crouching and stared at the other for a moment, forgetting his sorrows as he focused on the other. "I'm sorry, I can't really help you with that. I'm not exactly the most linguistic person either."

Taichi turned his attention to the road as Yamato went back to doing as well and after a moment of silence where nothing could be heard but their breathing Yamato spoke again. "Maybe if you just said what you wanted to. What you came to me wanting to say."

Taichi sighed and closed his eyes, thinking the words through as they were fed to him and thought that, perhaps he could try that. "I was just wondering why you were so sad. I didn't like the idea of being inside warm when someone is outside in the cold maybe needing help."

Yamato snorted at that, though Taichi was sure the sour expression wasn't directed at him. Thoughts that nearly read like a book passed before Yamato's eyes as the blond paused in a moment of contemplation. The words were so clear that Taichi was sure he could have read them had he only known the blond just a tad bit more. Tears began welling up in his eyes but hadn't fell and the blond had to take a few good swallows to clear the knots.

Finally the blond spoke again and it was in a sober manner that didn't leave room for prying. "It's not something I feel comfortable talking about." Yamato then gave Taichi a small sad smile. "Not exactly my proudest moment." Then he turned fixated eyes upon the road before him and shivered in the cold. "I'm fine, now. You don't have to worry yourself about this. I'll just sit for a few more minutes and start home."

Taichi had considered doing just that but his heart pulled at him to not. He couldn't leave the blond there shivering and then to walk home alone. To him, it just wasn't right.

...And something else in his heart, though he'd rather not think about it just yet.

Sighing Taichi wondered just how to pose his next question to the blond but decided just to take Yamato's earlier advice and just went for it. "Come here." Taichi said, nudging the blonde's shoulder to get him standing as Taichi grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, standing himself.

Yamato stood from the bench, offering the brunet an inquisitive stare.

"Come." Taichi said as friendly as possible, offering Yamato a warm smile over his shoulder, his deep brown eyes demonstrating nothing but kindness. "You've got some blood on your forehead and your lip's split. We'll get you cleaned up in the library's bathroom."

Yamato, reached up and touched his lip, where it was hurting and felt the cut there and a bit of drying blood. He blushed a bit at not realizing he must have gotten visibly hurt during the beating. He looked back up and the kind expression on Taichi's face made him feel as though the suggestion was one he could not refuse in every good way.

Offering an appreciating smile in return he did as the brunet had suggested and they had left towards the school's large wooden doors, with there two lamps on either side still lit at the early hour that it was.

To Be Continued

I can't believe it! I can't believe it! I can't believe it! I did it ;__; I finished * sniff * the chapter. I thought that would never be. I wrote this chapter so many times and so many ways that I am surprised that I ever finished it. My old computer had died, my new one had so many problems, my story got deleted on me so many times ;__; the last time I'm not even sure how it got deleted but... * sniff* It's so worth the work. I hope you think it was worth the wait. I can't believe it! I can't believe it! Also, on another note. I'm thinking of changing the title. I want to give my readers fair warning of me doing so. I might change it to 'A Years Worth of Lessons' or 'Turbulent Waves' or something else. I'll place the old title in the description so the story can be identified. I'm just not fond of the title I have now.

Thank you ppl for the patience. I so appreciate it and am so sorry it took so long to get this out. I love all who review! ^_^ Also I'm sorry for the few parts that seemed rushed or any grammar or spelling (let me know about that if you see.) I just don't want to wait any longer to put this out and am leaving the chapter like this for now for time's sake.


	3. Betrayal

Digimon is not mine.

**Betrayal**

The Library's bathroom was a rather good size for a library and rather clean to be public. The white tilled floors were clear of mud, dirt or toilet paper; four green stalls next to two simple urinals remained un-grotesque as they were often seen during the day; dark green tiles lined the walls; a white counter across from the stalls with three white sinks shone as though recently polished and above them was a large mirror that took up the rest of the wall and were unmarred by water stains or fingerprints.

As soon as they had entered the bathroom Yamato had placed himself before the first sink, staring unemotionally at his reflexing in quiet observation while Taichi placed his bag to the far side and out of the way. Tai had pulled down a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on the far wall next to the counter and wetted them in the third sink from the door.

Yamato remained unmoving as Taichi did his bit while stared at the damage done to him with mild interest. He felt rather numb about the nights earlier events probably rendering from the upset he had spent awhile expressing. He felt drained of emotion for the moment, exhausted in both body and mind and was well aware of his eyes burning from the earlier tears and the lingering cold in him that caused his body to break into a shiver from time to time for the first several minutes. Strangely he felt no anger or sorrow or remorse for the damage done to him as he stared and observed the few obscurities that marred his features.

Yamato had moved his eyes over his reflexion, going from the before mentioned split lip, to the blood that trickled half way down his forehead before drying from a cut or gash hidden within his hair, to the purplish bruise upon his right temple. The split lip, he was grateful , was minor and he was sure that, after the blood was cleared away, it would be easy to hide therefore his real concern had laid upon that bruise that he'd doubt would be so easy. Though it may cause Yamato to seem conceited with these thoughts of his, for I assure you he is not, it must be reminded that for someone who uses their appearance to feed and shelter themselves these were very real concerns.

"Okay, hold still." Taichi said as he took the blonde's chin in his hand and went to apply the paper towels to his lip. Before he could do so, though, Yamato jerked his head away, turning cautious blue eyes upon the other and blocking the paper towels advance with his right hand.

"It's not like I don't appreciate it, because I do." Yamato began, "But it's alright. I can do it myself. Nothing more then a scratch." With a frown Taichi handed over the paper towels and stood back to watch the gentle work of the other with pensive eyes, leaning against the counter with his hip and folding his arms over his chest.

Yamato dabbed at the cut tenderly, moistening the blood and watching as it slowly faded from it's place with every touch of the cloth. It was rather a simple task, one that came naturally to him and allowed his mind to wonder. The sting of his lip that came with each touch of the cloth was quite prominent, though, and he soon found his thoughts wondering to the incident that had caused the pain to begin with. In his mind's eyes he was reliving the beating, the overbearing soul pressing down upon him, stealing his wind and he was too grateful when Taichi had started speaking which had pulled him from his reverie.

"How long had you been sitting out there?" Taichi had asked quietly but without emotion. Just an inquisition to break the silence.

Yamato shrugged in response but hadn't wanted to allow the silence to linger yet again so responded more verbally, now adding room for conversation. "I'm not sure. It felt like a while. What time is it?"

Yamato's question then became a curious one to Taichi as well, though, it was disappointing to both when Taichi had checked his wrist and realized he must have forgotten his watch at the dorm when he had stormed out. Looking up with an apologetic expression Taichi said, "Sorry, I'm not sure. Do you need to be anywhere? Someone waiting for you? I have a phone in my bag if you need." Taichi offered.

Yamato let out a small puff of air in a sort of cynical laugh. "No," he said with a melancholy chortle. "I live alone." Yamato found the question to be a sort of cruel cosmic joke on him though he hadn't the mind to explained it to the brunet. "I was just curious. It seems pretty late, probably too late to study now. I suppose it wasn't that necessary since I'm doing pretty well this semester."

To Taichi it seemed more as though Yamato was reasoning with himself as he moved from cleaning his lip to wiping the blood from his forehead, switching the towel around in his hand to use a clean part of the towel to do so. Taichi responded none the less. "Glad to hear at least one of us is doing well this semester. I've been really suffering lately in my course."

"Hm," Yamato said, glancing at the brunet out of the corner of his eye for a second, not seizing his work. "What are you taking?"

"Business Administration." Taichi answered blandly.

"Doesn't sound like you're enjoying it all that much." Yamato responded nonchalantly as he stopped dabbing at his forehead to probing his bruise, half wondering if it was going to get any worst.

Taichi cringed as the thought at his school work. "Numbers..." Taichi explained sounding pained, "I'm just not good with numbers."

"Sounds like a good course for you then." Yamato joked sourly not realizing the statement could have been taken crudely, though Taichi took no offence. He tilted his head down as he leaned towards the mirror, laying the reddened paper towels upon the counter before he started spreading his hair apart, carefully, to peer into the area he'd assume he'd would see a nasty wound.

"I don't really want to take it. My dad wants me to. He wants me to work at the same bank he's been at for years." Taichi may have continued his explanation of his grievances then, though we'd never know because he had taken great notice to a frustrated sigh let out by the blond and how the other's posture then erected it's stance, taking on a manner of defeat; with slacked arms, and glaring eyes. "What's wrong?"

Yamato cleared the frustrated expression from his face and glanced at his company out of the corner of his eye for a moment in debate. After some hesitance he turned to the brunet and said, sounding quite aggravated in his handicap, "Taichi, may I ask if you could see about this cut? It's on such an angle..." Another frustrated sigh. "I just can't."

Taichi smiled at the other's upset over something that seemed so small to him and received a small glare for his efforts. Instantly the grin was gone and his face became more serious. "Sure." Taichi said, unable to remove the sound of delight from his voice, though. "Just come here." And, as ordered, Yamato had taken the two steps closer to the brunet, putting to end the distance between them.

As gently as ever Taichi slid a hand through the silky strands of golden hair that he had dreamed of so often since the last time they were that close. At that proximity Taichi could smell the sweat scent of the other's shampoo, a different scent then he had remembered but just as wonderful as the other. Yes, of course there was that iron smell of blood there as well but so faint, hardly noticeable being mostly masked by the knew smell that he'd be sure to dream of now.

"Would you please stop sniffing me and just check the cut." Yamato interrupted bluntly, sounding aggravated, though there was a small amused smile touching the blonde's lips.

Taichi, on the other hand, blushed profusely, feeling his heart speed within his chest, making him wonder if he'd of embarrassment. "What?! I-I wasn't!" He exclaimed instantly, rather loudly, and so fervently it was as though it were to save his life.

Yamato tilted his head to look up into Taichi's large brown eyes and give him that knowing look that he hoped would get them back on track. He hadn't expected to see anxiety so strong demonstrated upon that reddened face of his. Taichi only got worst as he took notice to the fact that there lips were so close now. Yamato raised an questioning eyebrow to the other. "So, how's your hetro resolution coming?"

Nervous brown eyes darted from the blond to the bathroom door then to the stalls at his left. Yamato sighed and arched his back to pull there faces a little further apart. "Relax," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "Not as many people care about it as you think they do. Not to mention this place is more dead, right now, then a cemetery. You're safe from criticism for the time." Despite the, somewhat, careless words Taichi did seem more relaxed after that was said andirected, with his cheeks still red, for Yamato to look downward again.

Taichi smoothed the reddened hair on Yamato's head away from a cut that didn't seem deep but was a good inch long at least. It had stopped bleeding, he had noticed, but would take a bit to clean because of it's location.

Taichi repeated what he saw to Yamato, hating how his voice seemed to jump and lower, and his words would stammer as his nervousness refused to fade. Yamato's words ' would you please stop sniffing me' kept grinding against his memory, keeping his embarrassment fresh.

"Are you alright?" Yamato questioned, sounding concerned, obviously not realizing how much he had effected the brunet.

"Yeah, fine." Taichi stammer out, looking towards the sink to avoid eye contact. "I can get that cleaned for you if you like."

Yamato only nodded as a grim look returned to the blonde's expression and Taichi silently went and grabbed more paper towels to wet them as Yamato went back to admiring the damage that was done to him, grateful that all that was now visible was the bruise and his reddened hair which would soon disappear as well.

As Taichi came to lay the first dab upon the blonde's crown, Yamato caught his forearm and held it gently, not moving it away as though he had changed his mind, but rather as though to pause the moment and bring the brunette's full attention to his eyes.

Yamato's eyes bore a serious sort of nervous look to them, sincerity, though, was strongly expressed in that look for the words he were about to speak he meant with everything in his being and when he spoke his voice was so soft and so genuine that Taichi felt there would have been no greater joy then to be this young man's shinning knight. "Thank you, Taichi... For everything."

Though simply put the expression behind it made it so that these words, spoken in there soft little helpless manner, had dictated everything Taichi had done for the blond there after.

---------

The library was large and dark, the day light that was not expected for hours more would normally act as the primary light during the day, shinning in through large windows that covered the higher parts of the outer walls. The tables for studying were lit by a single lamp that hung above the center of each table, some tables had there lights left on from earlier visitors that forgot to turn theirs off, while others remained unused in the night and so were cast into darkness.

Books were sealed behind black iron fences, kept safe from those with sticky fingers, the halls past the two wooden doors were next to as dark, with only emergency lights kept on for those who would enter to study at such late hours and to benefit the night staff (aka, janitors and security guards).

Yamato and Taichi sat at one of the longer tables in the main area with the light above shinning down upon Taichi's school books, a note pad and pen. Yamato had offered, graciously, to help Taichi in his homework to pay back for the other's kindness but soon Yamato was just as lost as the brunet and they sat across from each other, amused with idle chat while taking breaks in conversation to try and decrypt Taichi's text.

"'The time line is divided into 240 monthly periods (20 years times 12 payments per year) since the payments are made monthly and the interest is also compounded monthly. The $50,000 that you have now (present value) is a negative cash outflow since you will treat it as though you were just now depositing it into the account...' Excuse me for saying, Taichi, but what the fuck?" Yamato said as he read the text with bewilderment creasing his features. He then raised his head to direct the expression to the brunet. "I thought you said you were having trouble with math and this," Yamato said as he tapped the four fingers on his right hand three times upon the page he read, "Is not math."

Tai rolled his eyes. "First of all, call me Tai. Everyone calls me Tai. Second of all, this _is_ math." He then cleared his throat and turned his text to face him as he read, "'You are 40 years old and have accumulated $50,000 in your savings account. You can add $100 at the end of each month to your account which pays an annual interest rate of 6% compounded monthly. Will you be able to retire in 20 years?'" Taichi read then raised his eyes to meet the same bewildered expression as before, seeming not to have made his point. Taichi sighed and shook his head. "That _is_ math. I just... can't, quite understand it."

Yamato rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, now slouching, "Whatever." He said though there was a good humored manner about his tone, a sort of teasing as it may.

Yamato sat silently for a moment, watching Taichi try to understand his text. Blue eyes followed the features of Taichi's face, from the nose that wrinkled with the cringe Taichi had made, to his deep, kind eyes, to the lips that were currently puckered in the other's obvious distress.

He loved Taichi's eyes, he had to admit to himself. He loved how warm they were like the caring soul that was behind them, the dark color that matched his hair and made them seem deeper then they were. They were squared and masculine yet soft and gentle, they were deep and soulful and made him feel both important and a little envious.

He liked Taichi's square jaw line and the light stubble of brown hair that was hardly noticed on his chin. He loved his long and straight nose that adorned his face and was allowing that manly look to protrude through the boyish appearance he once had. As well, Yamato loved the soft look of Taichi's lips with which made him wonder how many had kissed them before he, himself, had.

Secretly Yamato wishing, in his thoughts of Taichi's appeal, how much he wished his own looks were more like the brunette's. He wished his eyes were more man-like then his effeminate long lashed, slanted ones; wished that his facial hair was more then the laughable 'peach fuzz' that would come threw every few days. He wasn't fond of his own feminine appearance and the teasing he had received because of it while growing up. He also often wondered if it was why he had such a hard time making acquaintances and meeting a nice guy who'd be interested in more then just a one night stand.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and focused his eyes back on the expressions of Taichi's face instead of the attractive attributes of it. He took notice to the fact that the cringe was gone now and his eyes were back to that glare that they usually took when staring at his text books.

Taichi sighed, giving up for the time and leaned back to mirror the slouching of his companion, bringing his attention to the silent blond again. "So, is there a way to shorten your name that you like?" Taichi had asked, referring back to the request he had made to the blond earlier. Curiously he watched the look on Yamato's face go from quiet intrigue to slightly miffed

Yamato had felt irritated by the question Taichi posed but not at the other for posing it. He tried to act calm and answered as passively as possible. "No, not really. I've never been one for nicknames."

Taichi raised his eyebrows at Yamato, feeling as though he were being lied to but not knowing why, so he pushed more for an answer; a bit of his stubborn personality shinning through. "Really?" He had asked, "No nicknames, abbreviations, shortenings or other given by friends or family."

The probing had Yamato's irritation rise a little, wishing for a change in subject but tried to keep his, sometimes, cruel tongue in check as he answered playfully, "Nicknames, abbreviations, shortenings are all the same thing, you realize?"

Unrelenting Taichi asked, "And you're are actually saying no one has ever tried to give you one? I'm sorry, but I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I was called fag for a while. Pansy a little bit, later on, though, that hadn't lasted long." Yamato said with a careless tone and quickly regretted it upon seeing the look of shock and hurt appear in the other's eyes, after all he knew of the other's sensibility on the subject and had just thrown it in his face with a cruel reminder of such negative labels. From past experience he could only imagine how many times the brunet had used those derogatory words upon himself.

Taichi just stared at him for a moment afterwards, confused into silence. The statement reminded him of the fears that he'd later face of public rejection and ridicule and didn't know how to respond because he wasn't sure how the blond had meant it. A personal matter seemed to come up and so did Yamato's defenses, for which Taichi hadn't realized their strength. It had him wondering how much truth was behind what the other said. He wasn't fond of talking about the subject but he wanted to know about the young man sitting across from him and questions of the other's experiences when discovering his own sexuality may, in turn, help him.

On the other hand Yamato may have only said what he had for the point of shock and then he'd have no base to ask his questions. It left him speechless for a moment, uncertain and a little dejected at the thought that the other may have used the knowledge of his unease against him.

Yamato had been sitting in silence for a time, biting his tongue out of guilt as he waited for the other to hopefully change topics out of awkwardly feelings but, as the seconds ticked by feeling much more like minutes, he felt that perhaps he was being a bit too cruel in his statement. To alleviate the guilt he was feeling, Yamato sighed, sat forward and unfolded his arms, his hands coming to grip the edge of his seat as he spoke. "I used to be called Matt," and then added quickly, "By _some,_"

Taichi focused his eyes on the other, who's own were directed downwards as though ashamed but Taichi could still see the guilt on his face which taught him the harsher truth of Yamato's earlier words. Though he was rather upset about Yamato using such a statement to bring him unease, the sorrow he saw on the other, and guilt and his willingness to open up as a repentance made up for it, in Taichi's eyes. "Used to?" He simply asked probing more gently for the other to explain what brought on the mood change.

"Yeah." Yamato said, with his lips twisted sourly at the thought. "It was a name my dad gave me when I was just a toddler. Caught on with my friends when I got older. I'm not that fond of it anymore and would prefer not to be called by it."

Taichi frowned at the hurt tone the other used and made a guess as to what had caused it. "Your dad didn't take you telling him about your preference well, did he?"

Yamato snorted and looked back towards Taichi as he answered with a pained look in his eyes that showed just how much he wished the fact weren't so. "He took it just fine." Yamato said with a sour grin upon his face. "As well as could be expected. He hadn't yelled. Didn't call me anything. Didn't disown me like I had expected." Yamato then laughed, and seemed amused though still bothered by what he was saying, "He has my brother try to keep tabs on me, though Takeru denies it." Yamato paused for a moment, bringing his eyes down to rest upon the table just before himself, thinking of how he could explain best what the trial had put him through.

"When I told him he was silent for a very long time." Yamato continued. "Took a seat on the couch and his face kept getting angry then going expressionless then back angry for about five minutes." Another pause for Yamato to swallow a hard knot before he started talking again. "When he was done he had gotten up and walked towards me. Stared down at me for a moment. Then said so quietly, sounding so hurt by what I had told him, 'Yamato... I'm disappointed'. Then he locked himself up in his room and didn't come out until work the next day."

Another moment had come and Taichi shook his head, understanding that hearing that would have been very troubling to the blond, to most kids in fact, so he had tried to muster up the most sympathy he could in the statement, "Yamato, I'm _so_ sorry."

Yamato raised his eyes up to the brunet offering him a smile, appreciating the sympathy, but his eyes were still sad. "That's not all." Yamato quietly added. Yamato took a deep breath as Taichi's expression turned to that of nervous interest. "When dad had come home from work the next day he hadn't so much as given me a glance before he was standing before me, handing me a handful of bills. He said that I was too sheltered living with him, that I had needed to learn what the real world was like. He didn't say it angrily, remained cool and indifferent the entire time. I didn't know what to do and just took the money. Once I had he said he'd help me pack if I wanted."

"He kicked you out!" Taichi exclaimed. "So, what'd he think? You'd go straight if you suffered a little." Taichi, so in tuned with the story, had forgotten his own worry over such topics and spoke with ease, loud enough for all to over hear.

Yamato let out a cynical laugh, that same sour grin remaining upon his face. "Something like that," He muttered, "Apparently my mom agreed. My parents divorced a long time ago and when I went to my mom's to live she had shunned me away. Said what my dad had about me needing to grow up."

Taichi had seemed shocked, his mouth was a gape and a hand had rubbed at his jaw as though trying to remind it how to work. His eyes were dazing out past Yamato's head as he thoughts took reign but when a particular thought past his mind they focused again upon the blue eyes watching him. "And you think it's okay if I were gay after what happened to you. My dad pays for my college, be it I like the course or not. If he stopped paying I'd end up working at Taco Bell or something for the rest of my days. I'd be completely screwed."

Yamato's smile turned more pleasant at that, understanding in a way, his eyes softening from their hurt expression. "You'd be surprised what you could do for yourself if you had to. By the way, you can't hide who you are. It always comes out, some time or other. The truth is there, constantly, and if you don't except who you are you mold your life around a lie and _that_ sounds depressing." Yamato said before adding on second thought, "By the time you realized what a mistake you made so much of your life has already gone by that it'd be nearly too hard to make it right if possible at all."

Taichi sat still in thought as he absorbed the words the other offered, remembering his great tribulation two weeks before and how much it had related to everything that Yamato had just said. He remembered debating if he should ignore his sexuality enough to marry or to die alone and wondered how far life would have gone down that path if he and Yamato hadn't...

Taichi coughed a couple of times and turned his attention back to his text, allowing his eyes to scan over the words carefully because what was in the text was now and the future he hadn't wanted to think about just yet. After his mind had grown absorbed into the text enough again for him to get confused, he asked, "What do you think this means: 'the 15 and 30 year fixed-rate mortgages common in the US are fully amortized loans. To pay off a $100,000, 15 year, 7%, fixed-rate mortgage, a person must pay $898.83 each month for 180 months (with a small adjustment at the end to account for rounding). $583.33 of the first payment goes toward interest and $315.50 is used to reduce principal. But by payment 179, only $10.40 is needed for interest and $888.43 is used to reduce principal'."

Yamato leaned forward, casting his eyes over the text and, after a moment of intense concentration, Yamato responded, "You know the school has a tutor program."

-----

Yamato woke the next morning in his bed wrapped, warm, within his beige comforter with the fresh sun light streaming in through the blinds to come and land upon his face. He squeezed his eyes and rolled over onto his side to hide from the offending light. In his wakening mind where sleep was still struggling to clear there was a soft voice, sounding very much like his conscious, that reminded him he probably should get up and ready for school but, to Yamato, that didn't quite seem reason enough just yet.

He laid upon his lumpy mattress, curled up in that beige comforter for several minutes, all calm and content, until something, greater then reason, seemed to make it through his sleep clogged mind enough to alert him to the fact that he wasn't alone in his apartment. His fists gripped his blankets as he sat listened to the sounds of clinking and footsteps and a few soft bangs beyond his bedroom door. That was until his memory from the night before came back and relaxed him into a more awake feeling of content.

Last night when Yamato had said that he needed to go home or he'd never wake, Taichi had offered to walk the other there, obviously concerned for his well being. Yamato was all to grateful and had a hard time hiding his enjoyment at the offer. They were both exhausted by the time they had made it to Yamato's that Taichi had ended up staying the night and, graciously, volunteered to claim the couch for his sleep.

Yamato now smiled at the sounds that he heard, all fear of danger gone and was replaced with a warmth he hadn't felt in a while as the sounds came to him and offered comfort. He leaned back onto his bed and glanced a lazy eye upon his clock next to him, which was resting upon a cardboard box, to see the time. It was not too late that he'd miss school, he took notice to, but late enough that he knew it was time to rise and meet his guest.

Taichi was working at the counter in Yamato's kitchen, on the far side of the fridge, and raised his eyes to greet the other as the blond had entered. Yamato had left his bedroom and gave a stretch and a yawn, unconcerned for his state of dress which consisted of merely the tight leather pants he had been wearing the night before and nothing more.

Taichi grinned at the other, amused at the sight, as Yamato walked slowly into the kitchen "Yeah," Taichi began turning his attention back to the peanut butter sandwiches he was making. "I thought of saying something about those leather pants last night but-" Taichi said with a teasing tone in his voice before he trailed off.

He glanced at the other from the corner of his eye to spy a reaction but Yamato had remained quite composed at the reminder of his exotic clothing, except for a small blush that came to his cheeks as he took a seat at his kitchen table. "Yeah, well," He began, sounding tired but amused none-the-less at the brunette's attempt to mock, "Leather pants are mandatory if you're gay. It's like a law or something set forth by the fashion police. Which, by the way, is fair warning to you now that you're, decidedly, gay."

Taichi smiled and shook his head as he finished with the sandwiches, wishing he could retort as cleverly as Yamato had. He tossed one of the two finished sandwiches on the table before the blond as he took a seat across from his companion and took a bite of his own sandwich. "By the way, do you ever shop? This was all I could find to make." Taichi said with his mouth full.

Yamato shot a disgusted look at the other as he watched the food move about in the brunette's mouth. "Do you have manners?" Yamato questioned which only seemed to amuse the brunet.

"You sound like my mom." Taichi said as he was chomping down on his sandwiches with his words muffled by bread and peanut butter.

Yamato shook his head at the other, hiding the fact that he was actually enjoying Taichi's company for the point of teaching the brunet a lesson. He took a bite of his own sandwich, demonstrating that he was first chewing, swallowing and then talking. "I shop every two days. I only buy as much as I need to. So, yeah, my cupboards stay sparse."

Taichi took another bite of his sandwich, disregarding the lesson. "What? You on a diet or something?" This bite was larger then the last and food particles actually came out as he spoke.

Yamato rolled his eyes, took another bite, swallowed then answered. "A constant diet. I have to stay thin, can't _afford_ to put on weight."

Taichi took another large bite, one so big he could hardly talk through the mouth full. "You're so skinny, though. You, of anybody, don't need to diet."

Yamato scrunched up his face then and put his own sandwich down, "Well, now, I'm done this meal too."

"Awe, come on!" Taichi pleaded as Yamato stood to clean up the mess from the preparations Taichi had made while hiding a smile as he had did so. Taichi quickly swallowed the amount in his mouth, nearly choking as he did. "I was only joking."

"I'm sure I'll get a good laugh out of it later." Yamato said sarcastically as he twisted the peanut butter's lid on and proceeded to wipe away the crumbs.

Taichi rolled his eyes as he placed the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth and sat for a moment, eying Yamato's half eaten one. Only a moment, though, had he sat in waiting before he reached forward and took the blonde's sandwich, eating it as well. Hell, _he_ wasn't on the diet.

------

The following week hadn't been all that eventful for either parties of this tale. Nothing too much more then minor consequences and events had befallen, not quite worth a scene but worthy enough to be told for these events showed much change in our characters.

First of all, Yamato had been more help to Taichi's math problems then he would know for Taichi had gotten a tutor through the schools tutor program. This event had been an infinite help to him that would lead to success in the exams ahead because, without the tutor's help, he would have failed his test, and forced to repeat the course, which would have hurt and hardened many things in Taichi's current life other wise.

Also, Taichi had stopped trying to avoid the blond at school, which he had been fervently doing before. Now he was almost religious about looking for Yamato whenever he entered into a knew room, never missed a chance to talk with him, which he felt he had to do since the blond was always so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hardly expected the other to see him even if the brunet were right before of his eyes.

Though Yamato remained oblivious to Taichi's efforts he was so grateful every time he had gotten the chance to speak with the brunet. Yamato had spent such a long time being lonely and isolated that the contact and friendship the other offered made him happier then he ever could've explained.

In fact, since Taichi had spent the night at his home, without complaint may I add since the place was shabbier then any other place Taichi had stayed, Yamato's little apartment felt warmer and brighter, cozier, then before. Every time he remembered waking to Taichi in his kitchen he grew contented and would even, sometimes, smile to himself about it.

Unfortunately not all good had come from that one night for the few obscurities on Yamato's face had caused some problems for him at work. The lipstick he had bought and used wasn't as good a match to him as he would have hoped, too pink for him; the shock factor he received for his efforts did not work in his favor. Of course, what could be expected. He was a boy. He normally didn't buy make up. His best efforts couldn't keep him from blushing when the stores clerk gave him a double take as he bought it. On top of that his bruise could not be covered by the powder he had bought which was too dark for Yamato's skin tone anyways.

When he had gone to work the first night after the beating the owner of the club had told him he couldn't work there with his face battered like it was or with himself looking like a clown either. The owner had given his condolences, of course, to Yamato's troubles but no amount of condolences could have saved the embarrassment he felt as he walked home gripping the makeup in his pockets all the while as though angry with them for failing him.

There was one incident, though, that deserves a scene to explain it properly for the emotional value that was there which explains Yamato behavior for several incidents that had occurred and will yet come. It had occurred upon the following Sunday, beginning just outside of Yamato's apartment.

The day was dark and the air was so frigid that one's lungs would hurt from the simple task of breathing. Clouds covered the blue in the heavens and hung low and dark as though threatening another good snowfall like the one from the night before.

Yamato was one of few who had left the warmth of their home and felt nearly foolish for doing so but he had to pick up a few things from the grocery store for his cupboards were now empty of all food and his stomach was growling at him. He was silently cursing himself for not getting more then what he had with the news forecast predicting weather like this was to last a while longer as he climbed the metal snow covered steps of his apartment building on his way home. Though absorbed as he was in his self-loathing thoughts he was not so absorbed as not to notice his brother, disgruntled as he may be, banging on his door in such a thunderous way that Yamato imagined just how long the other blond must have been out there.

Yamato stood silently for a moment, just watching his brother huddle into himself as he waited for Yamato to open his door. Yamato's eyes were sad, even with the small smile that touched his lips and the look in his eyes reflected that of remorse that demonstrated just how much he had truly missed his little brother despite how the feelings of betrayal had him act.

The sweet boy was a few feet away from him, staring angrily at Yamato's door, obviously too upset to notice his brother just yet. Takeru was shorter then he himself was with soft blond hair that still held the thin aspect of his youth. His smaller frame was tensed in the cold and a scarf was pulled up over his nose to try and keep him warm. The scarf was blue and perfectly matched the soft color of his eyes.

"Yamato, open up!" Takeru shouted through the door, while giving it a couple good bangs in the process. "I know you're in there!" He then proceeding to hug himself, wrapping his arms tightly around his torso and moving about jittery in his spot to keep warm.

Yamato smiled at that, amused in an endearing sort of way. In the next moment, though, he had erase the expression from his face and replaced it with an arrogant, perhaps slightly angered, one as he cleared his throat to get the other's attention.

Takeru turned his body to the sound, too cold to just turn his head and expose his neck, to see his older brother standing there with one raised eyebrow in such a way that only his big brother could. Takeru hid his embarrassment well, remembering what he had just shouted through the door, and turned his anger on his brother. "Where the hell have you been?! I've been waiting here forever for you!"

Yamato simply glanced down towards the two paper bags that he were carrying his groceries in as way of an answer.

Takeru scowled at his brother, now seeming slightly upset with himself for seeming a fool. "Open the door. I'm freezing," He grunted.

"So, how are you today, brother?" Yamato had asked as he led Takeru inside, knowing the sentence would frustrate his sibling if not with the way he had called him 'brother' but with the way he had said it as well. It was in a mocking tone, after all, one which expressed that Yamato didn't care one way or the other about how his sibling was doing and wanted the smaller blond to know it.

Takeru tactfully ignored Yamato's question, understanding the game and wishing not to play it. He shivered in his coat as he tried to warm up while gingerly removing his uncomfortably binding scarf to lay the garment upon the end table that held Yamato's phone.

Takeru walked towards his sibling who was entering into the kitchen to place his groceries upon the counter and by passed all pleasantries so to express the reason for him being there. "Why haven't you been returning my calls?" He spoke angrily, "I must have left you a hundred messages, at _least!_ And there I am wondering if your dead or evicted or in trouble and not knowing what to do..." Takeru paused in his rant to watch his brother idly pull his groceries from the brown bags to put them away. "Don't you even care _at all_?" Takeru asked so sincerely, with his arms gesturing in a silent request of 'why'. He sounded hurt, much to how he felt when he received not the slightest appearance of regret from the taller one for his troubles.

Yamato turned to his brother, a rather callous expression upon his face. "Would you like something while you're here? A drink perhaps? I just picked up some fruit if that interests you instead?" Takeru stood, staring at his brother for a moment before falling into a pose of defeat.

Yamato's mind whispered to him that any guilt he felt was misplaced. He had no real reason to feel anything for his little brother until the smaller blond at least seemed sorry at not having been there for him when his parents expelled him from their home.

Takeru turned away from his brother at that, defeated for the moment in gaining any emotion from his sibling, all while allowing a silence to settle as his brother continued placing away the few groceries he had picked up.

The smaller blond walked calmly into the living room, blue eyes scanning over the area like a surveillance. Takeru's softened eyes took to notice the old love seat that sat depressingly on its own, looking battered with several patches about it from past tares. It sat before a small television that Yamato had owned, an old one with turn dials like he had hardly ever seen before. A brown rug was upon the floor between the couch and the TV and held no visual appeal at all so he knew it's sole purpose was simply to protect Yamato's bare feet from the cold wood floor.

He noticed the white bare walls, without a frame or picture, the curtains by the window were dark gray and looked drab with a few moth eaten holes. A single lonely lamp sat in the far corner of the living room without it's shade that could offer it a friendlier look and not a thing more to give light at night in that part of the apartment.

"You done snooping for dad?" Yamato asked as he leaned upon a wall with his arms crossed over his chest, watching his sibling seem to search his apartment. 'Search', at least, is how Yamato saw it.

Takeru turned concerned blue eyes upon his brother watching sorrowfully as Yamato seemed to glare at him for the offered pity. The smaller one sighed and turned himself fully to his sibling and lowered his eyes as he prepared to give some bad news. "Dad's in the hospital right now, Matt. He had a heart attack."

Yamato stared at Takeru, expression unchanging but the smaller of the two could see the thoughts flutter about before the blond's eyes, first showing worry, then curiosity, gratefulness, and finally landing on fear. His facial muscles stayed as they had been before, his lips were tightly sealed, cheeks firm with anger, and eyebrows narrowed slightly on the boy before him. "And that's to explain that you're not snooping for dad, I take it then?"

Takeru sighed, disappointed with that careless response but ignored it, knowing how hurt the taller blond felt. "He's going to go into surgery tomorrow. He wants to see you." Takeru took two steps towards his brother then, feeling hopeful. "Mom and I want you to come too."

A sudden stress landed upon Yamato's heart then and, though he had tried to hide it, his brother could see a flash of confusion cross Yamato's face; his eyes had gone soft, loosing their fierceness, his lips lost their tension and slightly fell into a small frown, his shoulders quivered with the force it was now taking Yamato to keep them from slumping down and weakening his imposing posture. Though he appeared as though he were staring at the smaller blond Yamato's eyes were actually looking past him, into memories that brought him through a serious of emotions starting from confusion to joy to anger to graciousness and then to finally land on sorrow.

Yamato, if all truth was to be known, had actually wanted to go to the hospital and see his family. His heart even strained with the amount it had wanted him to go. It beat and thudded and tried to make his legs move to see the people he wanted to see and be excepted by more then anything, unfortunately, though, his head didn't want him to go and it was his head that controlled his legs.

At the mere thought of rejoining his family, returning to the loving, safe arms that he once knew too well made his heart swell and his eyes nearly water with the chance that he could have that again. But his mind offered reason beyond that of emotion.

His mind remembered how easy those people had shooed him away because of the truth that he had offered them. His mind remembered the dissatisfied expression he had received from his mother as she told him he hadn't a home with her either. He remembered the confused yet docile look he was given from his brother as he stood behind his mother, several feet away while she shut the door of her home to him.

He remembered his father's anguished eyes staring down at him as he was being handed the folded bills his father had given him for the purpose of clearing his own guilt the last hour he was allowed to remain in the place he considered home. He remembered the feelings of betrayal and hopelessness and sorrow and hurt, above all else, for being discarded so easy from the people who seemed to be his whole world up until then. These were feelings and events he had never wanted to experience again.

He didn't want to open his heart and watch it be torn apart again because his father would ask him, on his death bed, to become straight so he could die happy, or to tell him if he remained gay he wouldn't get a yen of his will; or, worst, to be apologized to, make him think that arms were open; security and love were once again his for the taking only to have it refused to him like it had been before once things had settled from this affair. His father would only feel remorse because he thinks he might die while his mother would only pretend she loved him for the sake of a dying man, be it her ex-husband or not.

He couldn't allow such hopes to lead to such pains which is why, a moment later, his brother had left his apartment in a huff, storming wordlessly past the taller blond, grabbing his softly colored scarf, and exited, bothering not to even shut the apartment door. It was only once he was outside again, with the nipping air stinging his ears, cheeks, nose, and lungs that he allowed his tears to fall, for it was the first time he had truly felt as though he had lost his brother. A feeling he would never forget.

To Be Continued...

Thank you DarkMetalAngel of Destruction, xSadiexSuicidex, Samsami, Anbaachan, and Bloodpained, plus all my reviewers from the first chapter I had posted. You guys are the reason why this came as fast as it had and the reason I'll have another chapter soon for you. Thank you lots. I hope you liked it. And, I wanted to say before Shevira, thanks for the constructive critisim. Picky is good. It taught me something about changing the style I had been trying for the first chapter.

Now, I'm a little concern that in this chapter it seems as though the characters aren't following the profile I had set out for them, by making Yamato a little nippy and Taichi too easy but a lot of the reason they acted how they had, for those are traits of their personalities as well, are because of the late hour they had and the stress on Yamato from the attack he had endured and the crying he had done. They still acted like how I picture them but in a stronger sense because of how tired they felt and were beginning to feel. I hope that makes sense to you, if you even care lol. I'm such a worrywart.

Also, not next chap, but the one after that I'll go more into the relationship between Yamato and Takeru that will explain Takeru's interactions with his brother and Yamato's anger with his brother which should bring to light the full amount of emotion which is needed to explain it best.

Thanks for reviewing because they make me hop with joy, even the ones that offer suggestions, and smile a lot and feel like the chapter was so worth writing. ^_^


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